Free Night Blindness by Susan Strecker Page B

the real mirror. It was odd that Nic got like this when I left. He brought beautiful models to the studio, stripped them of their clothes, and molded marble replicas of them. Ever since we made love that first time, he said I was too real to be his model anymore. “I see you in every woman,” he’d told me.
    â€œDid you hear me?” he asked.
    I picked the plastic father off the living room floor and propped him in the orange plaid recliner. I suddenly wanted to get off the phone so I could dust the floors and windows and use the tiny hand vacuum to clean the rugs. “Don’t tell anyone I play this with you,” Will had said. He’d stopped arranging the dining room one afternoon, his mouth serious, his blue eyes going back and forth on mine. I was eight, and he was not quite ten. “I won’t,” I told him. I remembered the importance of that secret, how loyal I’d made myself to it.
    â€œIt’s only two months,” I said to Nic. “Just until he’s out of the woods.” The rotary phone on the wall by the bathroom rang. “Let me call you back,” I told him; “that’s the house line. We’re supposed to get labs back today.”
    â€œJust answer it,” he said. “I’ll hang on.”
    The old yellow phone hung outside the tiny bathroom, and I managed to grab it before the answering machine picked up.
    â€œJamie,” Ryder said.
    My stomach lifted into my throat at the sound of his voice, just like it used to when I was fifteen. “Ryder,” I said. “It’s Jenny.”
    â€œOh. Jenny.” I still hadn’t gotten used to hearing anyone call me that, but I liked the way he said it, almost singing my name. “I keep expecting you to sound like a teenager.”
    â€œYeah.” I said, “I know.” I thought about calling him from Liv’s the night before. “Did the blood work come back?” I could tell he was at the hospital, because a doctor was being paged in the background.
    â€œYes, nothing alarming there. We’ll proceed as planned. Radiation first, then, if need be, surgery.” His voice was flat, professional, not Ryder’s at all.
    I suddenly wished it was last night again, under the stars, his camel hair coat around me, signing I love you. “ Is that a good thing?”
    He didn’t answer. I tried to think of something to say about the night before, but I didn’t know what.
    â€œWe should talk about it with your parents.”
    â€œRyder, it’s me, Jenny. You can tell me.” I could hear more voices in the background. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk, and I shouldn’t have called you. It’s just—”
    â€œLet’s stick to the plan. Radiation, then we’ll see where we are.” His voice was businesslike. “Tell your father to give me a call. I’ve got to go; I’m getting paged.”
    The line clicked off. I stood there with the phone in my hand, hating him for hanging up so soon. And then I remembered Nic. I put the receiver back and picked up my cell. “Sorry, Nico.” He didn’t answer. I thought he’d gotten tired of waiting, but the display said we were still connected. “You there?”
    Nic never said anything when he was mad; he just simmered, like water that wouldn’t boil. Days could go by, the silence between us like a hard wall neither of us would reach through. Sometimes I wished we would fight, yell at each other. Silence was so infuriating, and lonely, but I was also grateful for it. I thought if we fought, I might say things I would regret.
    â€œHe calls you Jenny?” His voice was cold.
    â€œWhat?” I sat in front of the dollhouse again. The father had fallen off the plaid chair. “Everyone called me Jenny when I was a kid.” The floor was covered in contact paper that looked like hardwood, peeling at the edges.
    â€œAnd now